What seest thou else In the dark backward and abysm of time? If thou remember'st aught ere thou camest here, How thou camest here thou mayst. Prospero, Act 1, Scene 1, The Tempest Hi, everyone. I hope your Thanksgiving holidays, already a week behind us, were enjoyable and rewarding if not relaxing.
"And the long train of mind of the single organism, looking back in its several individual instances upon itself, to recognize itself, flashed with self-knowledge." I suppose if I have any beliefs anymore, it is something like this. That we are all but flowering individual buds growing off of and fed by the same underground rhizome. Thank you for sharing this wonderful post. I read not long ago Mary Leakey's autobiography and found it fascinating to live for the time I was reading it with the mind that toiled fruitlessly (not altogether of course but for long stretches) for so long to uncover connections between present and past.
Thank you, Emily, for that empathetic take -- on Leaky, too. It's of great interest to me, that quiet, sustained, inner commitment to an endeavor that proceeds, outwardly, so slowly and may delay reward so long. It produces great achievement but isn't well or easily communicated.
This was great, Jay. I was drawn in by that first line.
I'm fascinated by how different history can be. It can be an act of great labour - for example, the paleontologist sifting through the earth, looking for clues and then piecing them together. But it can also be driven by imagination and vision, as in the great narratives histories.
So sorry to have overlooked your comment, Jeffrey. I've fallen so far behind. Yes, what you say is very true. I have both impulses myself, though I much prefer the latter. I just a bit ago did some reading in paleontology that I'll be sharing sometime soon here at HV.
"And the long train of mind of the single organism, looking back in its several individual instances upon itself, to recognize itself, flashed with self-knowledge." I suppose if I have any beliefs anymore, it is something like this. That we are all but flowering individual buds growing off of and fed by the same underground rhizome. Thank you for sharing this wonderful post. I read not long ago Mary Leakey's autobiography and found it fascinating to live for the time I was reading it with the mind that toiled fruitlessly (not altogether of course but for long stretches) for so long to uncover connections between present and past.
Thank you, Emily, for that empathetic take -- on Leaky, too. It's of great interest to me, that quiet, sustained, inner commitment to an endeavor that proceeds, outwardly, so slowly and may delay reward so long. It produces great achievement but isn't well or easily communicated.
Beautiful.
Thanks, David. You're a great reader to have.
This was great, Jay. I was drawn in by that first line.
I'm fascinated by how different history can be. It can be an act of great labour - for example, the paleontologist sifting through the earth, looking for clues and then piecing them together. But it can also be driven by imagination and vision, as in the great narratives histories.
So sorry to have overlooked your comment, Jeffrey. I've fallen so far behind. Yes, what you say is very true. I have both impulses myself, though I much prefer the latter. I just a bit ago did some reading in paleontology that I'll be sharing sometime soon here at HV.
No need for apologies! Looking forward to your piece on paleontology.